Crimson took a deep breath, her expression unreadable.
"Old man, you're here to tell him about the markings on his skin?"
The soul hovered closer to Demos, morphing into a dwarf-like form.
"Oooo, so he's not just some fool. At least he wants to know what's happening to himself."
The dwarf soul scanned Demos' body, making him uneasy.
"Aren't you a Spartan?" Demos asked.
"No, I'm a noble dwarf. I'm not one of your barbarian warriors," the soul replied.
"But you look like one of our people," Demos insisted.
The soul sighed and looked at Crimson.
"Really? You didn't teach him anything?"
Crimson shrugged.
"I didn't think the markings would appear before his awakening… and his soul is still healing."
"Mother, what did he mean by 'barbarian warriors'?" Demos asked, confusion etched on his face.
"Kid," the soul cut in, "she's just like her husband—impulsive. But at least she thinks before acting foolishly."
"Let's focus on the basics," the soul continued, shifting his tone. "I'm Voldemort. These markings—Spartan Soulbound Markings—represent your power. You've seen them on your mother's skin, but I'm not marked myself."
He paused, then clarified,
"Having the markings doesn't necessarily make you a Spartan. The essence of being a Spartan lies in possessing the Warrior's Heart."
Demos recalled the system interface, where he'd seen an ability called Warrior's Heart.
"So how does someone get the Warrior's Heart?" he asked.
"How should I know?" Voldemort replied. "But it probably has something to do with your Spartan soul. And don't waste your time asking that white-haired, gorilla-like woman."
Demos' eyes flashed with anger. His killing intent leaked out unconsciously.
"Hey, old man—don't talk about my mother like that."
Voldemort chuckled.
"Ahhh, I like you. You remind me of that fool from the old days."
"Anyway," he went on, "the Warrior's Heart is tied to your soul—or something close. I took that barbarian's ability and refined it, creating a power only Spartans can use. Spartan men can wield all three—women, usually just two. Your mom's an exception."
"But why can women only use two?" Demos asked. "My mother uses all three."
"That, kid, was my life's purpose—to uncover the secrets of your barbarian ancestors' souls. It looks like the Spartan soul is trying to rewrite itself into a purer, elite form. It's like it's editing itself, searching for its creator—or maybe its original pattern. Ever since your mother received the markings, it's stopped accepting outside bloodlines. Only true Spartan lineage works now."
He sighed, then continued.
"The first marking—the one that helped Leonidas the most—is the Spartan Heart. Listen closely. I'm only going to explain this once.
"The Warrior's Heart boosts stamina and recovery. It gives you the strength to kill 200 average humans—or a lesser dragon. But the Spartan Heart? That's something far more violent.
"The Spartan Heart consists of fifty small, living runes—shaped like tiny daggers—that orbit your heart. Every time you kill a strong opponent, one dagger consumes their blood and evolves. As each dagger evolves, you grow stronger.
"Once all fifty evolve, they pierce your flesh and encircle your heart. Then, circuit-like patterns spread through your body and soul. At that point, the Spartan Heart glows with one of three colors: red for beginners, blue for intermediates, and white for demigods or gods.
"Beyond that... I don't know. Your soul's too unique—it keeps evolving."
He paused, then moved on.
"The second ability is the Strength of Hercules."
Demos turned to his mother, who nodded.
"The Spartan ability was named after one of the figures you saw in my memory bubble," Crimson explained. "He was the second king of the dwarves. He fought alongside your father and gave his life for their victory."
Voldemort picked up the thread.
"The Strength of Hercules is simple but powerful. I infused Leonidas with Hercules' blood—it gave him the strength to fight giants, kill lesser gods, even escape true dragons—though not without injury.
"The strength it gives depends on its color:
• Red: Kill at least 50 giants.
• Green: 200 giants.
• Blue: A demigod.
• White: Battle a true dragon on even footing.
• Gold: Go head-to-head with a true god.
"Beyond that... your guess is as good as mine."
"The Strength of Hercules manifests as circuits around your neck, spreading through your body and soul. These paths run parallel to the Spartan Heart's markings. They never merge—but they perfectly complement each other."
Voldemort shifted again.
"The last one—Hermes Speed."
Demos glanced at his mother. Crimson nodded, reading his thoughts.
"Hermes Speed is straightforward," Voldemort said. "It appears as wing-like markings on your lower legs. The more feather-like the markings, the faster you move. The Spartan Heart and Strength of Hercules connect to it, making all three abilities work together as one system. All of them carry traces of Hercules' and Hermes' blood."
He paused.
"Any questions?"
"Yes," Demos said. "How do you awaken all of them? And… do the markings represent all our power?"
Voldemort looked at Crimson knowingly.
Crimson sighed and answered,
"The thing is, Demos… you only have three months until your awakening. Spartan men who haven't awakened will need to go through the old-fashioned method—like your father."
"And the women?" Demos asked.
"Women who haven't awakened must marry someone who has. They drink a cup of their husband's blood to weaken the primordial energy within their soul. That ritual triggers the awakening and brings out their markings."
"So… for women, it's not painful?" Demos asked.
Crimson shook her head.
"No. They'll feel every marking carved into their body and soul."
Demos' eyes widened.
"What's the old-fashioned way, then?"
Crimson's expression darkened.
"It means having the markings carved into your flesh using the blood of someone who already has a Spartan soul."
"Holy shit," Demos whispered.
"And the natural way?" he asked.
Crimson nodded.
"Through marriage—by drinking a cup of each other's blood. That ritual suppresses the primordial energy in both souls and completes the awakening. That's why one of the Spartan laws is to marry at sixteen."
"So… Mother, are you telling me I have to get married now?" Demos asked, alarmed.
"No," she said. "You'll go through the old-fashioned method first—with the Five Warriors. The Seven Elders will handle the healing. As for the rest… it'll happen when the time comes, just before the others begin their awakening."
Demos still didn't grasp the gravity of the situation. He looked at Voldemort, who was grinning from ear to ear, his mouth twisted into a worried expression that didn't match his eyes.
"Mother... what's so difficult about doing it the old-fashioned way?" Demos asked.
Crimson raised her hand, and a soft glow enveloped her son. With her power, she gently lifted him into her lap. Though Demos was tall for his age, she adjusted her size, making herself larger so she could cradle him properly. She wrapped her arms around him in a loving, protective hug.
Demos was startled by the sudden affection. His mother's embrace was warm, almost too warm. It made him feel safe—but also uneasy. Something about the way she held him… it made the awakening process feel far more terrifying than before.
Crimson whispered into his ear, her voice soft but firm.
"Demos… the old-fashioned method means letting Voldemort carve every marking into your skin. And your soul… your soul will finish the rest—etching the markings into itself. But there's one condition."
She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes.
"You must not lose consciousness. Not once. Not even for a second."
Demos swallowed hard. The weight of her words settled in his chest like stone.
Crimson continued, brushing a hand through his hair.
"That's how Leonidas transcended… how he became a lesser god. And you, Demos… your body is the very essence of Leonidas. But unlike him, you were born with a fully developed Spartan soul. That alone makes you unique."
She paused, her voice trembling slightly.
"But your soul… it was damaged. And now, you're stuck—caught between mortal and god. Unless I find a faster way to help your soul transcend… you'll never unlock your full potential. And as your mother… I fear the unknown more than anything."
"But… I can still awaken my powers, right, Mother?" Demos asked, his voice uncertain.
Crimson smiled gently, brushing his cheek with her thumb.
"Yes, of course you can. You're a Spartan. No matter what happens, your awakening will come. Not even I can stop the way our souls move toward their destiny."
She glanced down at her arm, tracing the faint glow of her markings.
"Look at me," she said softly. "I wasn't born with a Spartan soul. I'm … a true god who is —cursed by my own mother. Rejected by both Asgard and Olympus because I was born a half-breath between two different true gods."
She paused, her voice low with emotion.
"But when I used Leonidas' blood to carve the Spartan Soulbound Markings into my flesh… something changed."
Her eyes shimmered with quiet awe.
"His blood didn't just mark me—it reshaped me. It altered my soul. And now, I carry the purest strain of Spartan blood. And so do you, Demos. You inherited it through both body and soul."
She met his eyes again, fierce with pride and something deeper—love, fear, and hope bound tightly together.
"So yes, Demos. You will awaken. That part of you... is inevitable."
You are curse mother , Demos ask in surprise
Yes and brith, Crimson replied
"Sorry to interrupt this touching little moment," Voldemort said, voice sharp with urgency, "but even now, you need to gather all the materials for that plan of yours. The faster you complete it, the faster I can be reborn—so I can finally uncover the secret of the Spartan soul. I need to uncover it, or I swear I'll go mad!"
Crimson smirked.
"Ah, ah, ah… aren't you already mad, you stubby little dwarf?"
"Hey! You gorilla-like woman," Voldemort snapped, "I'm not old—we dwarves just live longer! Unlike your husband and his special Spartan soul that gave him a shortcut to godhood."
Demos blinked in surprise, watching the strange back-and-forth.
"But seriously," Voldemort went on, "I do thank Leonidas for the race change. Even if we look like dwarves now... we aren't truly dwarves anymore. We're something more."
Crimson's smile softened as her gaze dropped for a moment.
"I know, Voldemort. Leonidas just… kept his promise," she said quietly.
"But you're right, Voldemort," Crimson said, her voice calm but resolute. "Once I've finished healing Demos' soul — two and a half months from now — I'll begin the plan."
Voldemort gave a knowing nod.
"And now Demos understands… at least some of what's happening. But there's nothing else he can do, except get stronger and lead the Spartans until your plan is complete. When that happens, you'll be Queen again."
Crimson shook her head slowly.
"No… my reign is long gone," she said, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. "This time, I'll just be a good mother. The king will be Demos. And the Queen… will be the one he chooses. I'll help raise the family I never got to raise."
Demos' eyes flickered with emotion.
"Mother… the plan you're talking about — is it the creation of a world for us Spartans?"
"Yes," Crimson confirmed without hesitation.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Demos asked.
"Yes," she said, her tone shifting to firm resolve. "You need to grow stronger. And find the fourth race."
"The fourth race?" Demos asked, eyebrows furrowing. "How do I find them?"
"Your soul will know," Crimson replied simply.
"But… I don't understand," Demos said. "How can my soul know something I don't?"
Crimson sighed, her eyes drifting toward the endless void beyond.
"I'm not completely sure. But I think it's tied to the promise Leonidas made — to Hercules and Hermes. He always said his soul never felt complete after that. From then on, he just… followed wherever it led him."
She looked back at her son, her expression grave.
"That's how Sparta ended up with Elves, Barbarians, and Dwarves. His soul guided him to each of them. As for me… I've never felt that kind of calling. But still, deep down… I know my soul isn't complete either."
Demos tilted his head, confused.
"Barbarian? What's that?"
Voldemort blinked, then burst out laughing.
"Ahh ahh ahh… I take it back — you're even dumber than Leonidas and your gorilla-like mother!"
Crimson rolled her eyes, folding her arms.
"You stubborn old dwarf. How should he know? He spent most of his first life imprisoned — thanks to being Chole's illegitimate son."
Her voice sharpened.
"Chole was a fool. He let the Council control the Imperial Family… as if they were above the S. Sparta bloodline."
Voldemort grunted.
"Tch. You're not wrong. The Council lost its spine long ago. They forgot who built Sparta. Who bled for it."
Crimson nodded, pride and pain mixing in her voice.
"And now they fear the bloodline they once worshipped."
Demos stood still, letting the weight of their words settle.
"Wait… so the Barbarians — they were once part of Sparta?"
"They are," Crimson said firmly.
"And they still are. Leonidas was a Barbarian — and the first Spartans were all Barbarians. That's where it began. Their souls were wild, raw, but powerful… unique. Just like the Elves. Just like the Dwarves. The Spartan soul recognized them — accepted them — and shaped them into something more."
Voldemort stepped forward, his gaze serious.
"And if your soul doesn't find that last race… Sparta will never be whole. You will never be whole."
Crimson placed a hand over Demos' heart, her touch gentle yet grounding.
"So listen to your soul, my son. When the time comes… it will call to you. Just like it did for Leonidas."